


Sara Smith, Love of Your Life

by RunnerFive



Series: ZR Drabbles [4]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Anal Sex, F/F, Mushy, POV Second Person, Present Tense, Romance, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7356070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunnerFive/pseuds/RunnerFive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little something to try to beat writer’s block! Also, this is the first time I’ve ever written Sara Smith bottoming. I’m branching out!</p><p>TW: c-section mention, anal, lovesick Five waxing (grossly) poetic about Sara’s stretchmarks/pimples/scars.</p><p>Spoilers through early season 2 (M10 or 11 I think?) re: The Aurora</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sara Smith, Love of Your Life

 

You don’t realize you love her until she’s gone. And you don’t realize she’s the Love of Your Life(tm) until she comes home again.

You have never been so fiercely in love with anyone. You are literally incapable of seeing any of the so-called flaws with her body. You love caressing her stretchmarks; they remind you of lightning. You love the smell of her sweat and her dirty hair.

Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but you’re pretty sure that, objectively, Sara Smith is the most beautiful woman on the planet, pre- or post-apocalypse.

What she calls “stomach pudge,” you see as breathtaking mountains. The valley parting them is carved not from water, but from a surgeon’s knife. You marvel over how utterly badass she is for carrying small humans inside her own body, much less being cut open and having them pulled out through the wound. You tell her this one day, and she laughs.

“I’m nothing special,” she says. “I’m just a mum.” Then she realizes she used the present tense, and she goes quiet.

You try to kiss the sudden melancholy away. She lets you. You tell her you think she’s a warrior, and that makes her laugh again.

Your favorite time of day is when the two of you lie naked together, your freshly rinsed underwear drying on a yarn clothesline spanning from the top bunk to the towel rack. You take turns giving backrubs, knowing that inevitably it’ll turn into a sexy pimple-popping session. You realize, gradually, that love is just as much about tweezing each other’s chest hairs as it is about candles and chocolates and cuddles.

And sometimes, love is sliding a slick purple dildo up your girlfriend’s perfect ass.

She’s tight but relaxed after two hours of foreplay and fingering. Her body tells you when to halt, when to retreat, and when to advance. It’s the same as out in the field—her verbal instructions have always been a formality. You slide the toy in to the base, and Sara takes a deep breath. You kiss her thigh while she adjusts. When she relaxes against the pillow, you carefully draw the dildo out and then push it back in. Her hips wiggle in pleasure.

You ask if she likes it. You know she does, but you like hearing her sexy voice.

She scoffs. “Why don’t you feel for yourself? I’m dripping wet.”

You lower your mouth to taste her, and she rubs her wetness all over your face. You look up to find her looking over her shoulder, biting her lower lip as she chuckles. You spank her for that, even though you’re amused and turned on by it. If Sara minds being spanked, her moans convey a very different message.

“You’ll have to spank me harder than that if you want to teach me a lesson,” she taunts.

Ten minutes later, you’re straddling her leg while fucking her ass as furiously as you can. Her fingers circle her own clit.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Punish me, Five. Harder. Make me pay for it.”

You try to oblige. Her face and chest flush, and you can feel her orgasm before it strikes. She cries out so loudly Jack and Eugene bang on the wall separating their room from yours. Sara finally collapses on the bed. You gently remove the dildo, making her tense and then sigh in relief.

You lie next to her. She feels as hot and pliable as warm dough. Her hair is soaked with sweat, and her thighs and ass are shiny from the lube. You wipe your slippery hand on her back, earning a playfully derisive snort from her.

“Thanks, Five.”

You want to talk about what she said just before she came, but she rolls over to sleep. You kiss her shoulder and roll the other way to masturbate over the fresh memory of fucking her ass.


End file.
